The Twelve Days of Christmas
by fourandtwenty
Summary: 'Tis the season for... Magic Saints? The students of Gryffindor and Slytherin must play a game of 'Secret Santa' for the twelve days leading up to Christmas, resulting in unexpected romances, tricks, and -- mistletoe??
1. Magic Saints?

** The Twelve Days of Christmas :** Twelve chapters from December 12th to the 24th, celebrating the upcoming Christmas season. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, and a very happy New Year.  
  
This is a story I've been meaning to write, and I finally got a decent scenario; You'll slowly find out who the 'Magic Saints' are, with a few twist, unexpected relationships, and tricks in between.   
**  
**** Day One : "Magic Saints?"**  
  
  
*  
_ The Christmas Season; a time of true magic and love, where children can be children without reprimand and even the coldest heart can feel the buzz of excitement in the air. Some may argue it is a time for giving, while others the time for receiving For twelve students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, however, it's not about what you give or receive; it's about who and how.__.._  
  
*  
  
  
_ To All Seventh Year Gryffindor Students:__  
__  
__Starting December 12th, you all shall receive the name of a student of a different house or dorm, as they are available. It will be your duty to be this individual's Magic Saint for the next twelve days, buying them gifts and such – you too shall receive a Magic Saint, but do not release the name of your individual until Christmas Day. __  
__  
__On Wednesday, December 12th, Thursday, December 13th, Saturday, December 15th and 22nd, students who wish to do so may go to Hogsmeade to supply themselves with ample gifts.__  
__  
__If you have any questions, please contact Professor McGonagall.__  
__  
__ Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_  
  
"Magic Saint?" Ron Weasley scrunched up his nose and read over the bulletin directed towards all Seventh Years once more. "What are those?"  
  
"Some sort of secret Saint Nicholas, I assume." Hermione Granger answered him, her short frame standing on the balls of her feet to reach Ron's shoulder. "You mean to tell me you've never heard of that sort of thing?"  
  
"Of course I have," Ron snapped, "Just… never under that sort of name."  
  
"Why would Professor Dumbledore want to do something like this?" Harry Potter appeared on the other side of Ron, his face a mixture of confusion and interest.   
  
"Hold on," Hermione said, running a finger down the list of Houses that followed. She let out a squeal, then quickly turned towards the two boys standing next to her, her face slightly pale.  
  
"We're paired with Slytherin."  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open, "You've better be bloody kidding me!"  
  
Harry peered over Ron's shoulder and made a face, "She's not."  
  
Ron blanched, stepping back and accidentally trodding over Harry's foot. With a sharp yell, he jumped back even further in surprise.  
  
"With my luck, I'll get Draco Malfoy." Hermione grumbled, pushing her hair out of her eyes and walking past the two boys to one of the couches in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"With my luck, I'll have Draco Malfoy for a… what did Dumbledore call them?" Ron glanced back up at the posted parchment, grumbling. "Magic Saint. What sort of name is Magic Saint anyway?"  
  
"I'm betting our partners are fixed," said Harry, after following Hermione over to the fireplace, sinking into a red velvet chair across from the couch she was now perched on. "Seeing as how we're with Slytherin and all."  
  
"Slytherin…" Ron blanched once more, "How much worse can it get?"  
  
Hermione's eyes widened, "Oh don't you dare say that, Ron!"  
  
"Yeah," Harry shook his head. "Don't jinx us more than we already are... Slytherin?"  
  
Ron stuck out his tongue, more towards the fire than to anyone surrounding the group. "Merlin help us all."  
  
  
  
  
"…And in a few moments, you shall randomly receive the name of either a housemate or a student from the Slytherin dorms."  
  
The next day at breakfast, Professor McGonagall had taken every Seventh Year Gryffindor student's name down and placed them into an old wizarding hat, mixed with the names of ten Slytherin seventh years – including Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. Now, as all Gryffindor eyes were on her, she waved her wand and produced a neatly folded up piece of parchment bearing the name of an individual appeared in front of each of the Seventh Years from the two different houses.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione each reached over their plates to take their parchment, all unfolding it carefully, as if the parchment would burst into flames at any moment; Harry supposed even that was possible at that point and time.  
  
"Whew," Ron sighed, reading the name on his parchment. "Didn't get a Slytherin."  
  
"Don't give your name away!" Hermione hissed, looking up and down the table. "They may hear you. Isn't that the point of this all, to keep it all a secret?"  
  
"I suppose," Ron shrugged, stuffing the parchment into the folds of his cloak, then nodded over towards Hermione's. "So, who'd you get?"  
  
Hermione sniffed, "I don't see how it's any of your business – but a Gryffindor."  
  
"Wouldn't it be wicked if two people got each other?" Ron grinned, then looked over at Harry, who had ignored his previous comment. "And you?"  
  
"Slytherin," said Harry quietly, putting the parchment in his pocket as quickly as possible. "Although I do agree with Hermione, Ron. You'll find out who the person is once Christmas comes."  
  
"But that's in two weeks!" Ron moaned, picking up his fork and spearing a piece of sausage with it.  
  
"At least you got a Gryffindor - and someone we know at that." Harry mumbled, staring blankly at his empty plate. "I don't know my person very well at all."  
  
"Even with seven years worth of Potions?" Hermione inquired, tackling her own breakfast.  
  
"Especially after seven years of Potions." Harry sighed, glancing over at the Slytherin table where Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zambini were sitting in a tight group, heads bowed and all talking quietly. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting slightly to the left of Malfoy, neither of them looking offended even though he was completely ignoring them. Although, Harry noted, chances were they were either too thick to notice or too dumb to care.  
_  
__ This is going to be one hell of a Christmas.__ .._  
  



	2. Think She'd Fancy A Shag?

**The Twelve Days of Christmas - Chapter 2**  
  
**Think She'd Fancy a Shag?**  
  
  
Don't mind the chapter title... :o) December 13th, only 11 more days to go until Christmas! That's six school days, once of which I'm expecting to party the entire day. Hope you all have gotten most of your shopping done - for the first time ever, I've bought presents before the 21st. I'm proud. :o)   
Most of you are saying Harry has Draco - how can you be so sure? He _was _looking at five Slytherins - Crabbe, Goyle, Zambini, Malfoy, and Pansy. Why on Earth would you conclude it's Draco, just from reading that, eh?   
*smirk* I'm a pain in the arse, sorry. Enjoy!  
Aimée  
  
  
  
  
"So, what House did you get?" Seamus Finnigan sat perched at the end of his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor Seventh Year Boy's Dorm, speaking to the remaining four male members of his year.  
  
"Gryffindor." Neville Longbottom replied, buttoning the top buttons to his pajama top.   
  
"Gryffindor, thank God." Ron answered, fluffing up one of his pillows. "Harry got a Slytherin though."  
  
"Ouch, sorry chap." Seamus winced, and then flashed Harry a dazzling smile.  
  
"I can speak for myself, thank you." Harry snapped, pulling back the comforters to his bed. "I don't know them very well either, so this is going to be a bit harder than I expected."  
  
"That would be the point, wouldn't it?" Dean Thomas spoke up, drawing back the curtains to his own bed between Seamus and Neville. "To get to know our opposite House a bit better, with the War and all."  
  
"I supposed," Harry murmured, climbing onto his mattress. "Seamus, Dean, which House did you get?"  
  
"Slytherin as well." Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. "Crabbe, at that."  
  
Harry winced, "Sorry."  
  
"I got Slytherin as well, but Pansy Parkinson!" Seamus grinned, swinging his feet back and forth in the air. "Do you think she'd fancy a shag? Consider it a priceless gift; cover me for the entire twelve days?"  
  
"Is that what girls really want?" asked Neville, cocking his head slightly to the right. "A – shag?"  
  
Seamus shrugged, "I suppose. What else are they good for?"  
  
Neville gulped and thought about the name on his piece of parchment; he was supposed to – shag – her? Is that what girls really wanted?  
  
How was he supposed to do _that?_  
  
Ron scoffed, glaring over at Seamus. "Look at Hermione, why don't you? She's smart as a whip, but would you want to shag her?"  
  
Seamus tilted his head and thought for a moment, then sighed. "You've got me there – but I'm sure I know someone who would want to."  
  
He grinned back over towards Ron, who took a moment to understand. With a sudden 'hmph' of disagreement, a pillow went flying through the air, hitting the Irish boy on the side of head. Less than thirty seconds later, war raged in the Seventh Year's dormitory until finally one of them called it quits, begging the others to go to bed. With loud protests, the clan finally gave up and conceded to Harry's wishes.  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way through the streets of Hogsmeade, carrying parcels they had bought, whether it be for friends, family, or the individual they were supposed to buy for.  
  
"Hermione," said Ron suddenly, "You're a girl – what do would you want for Christmas from a guy you barely know?"  
  
"Socks." Hermione replied without missing a beat. Harry sniggered for a moment before receiving a sinister glare from Ron, and then quickly shut up.  
  
"I'm serious, 'Mione," Ron whined, "I have no idea what to get for my person!"  
  
"So, like I said, get socks." Hermione answered in an snobby tone, which was very unlike her this time of year. "Everybody needs socks."  
  
Harry shook his head, "You remind me more and more of Professor Dumbledore each day."  
  
Both Ron and Hermione both shot him a curious look, but Harry merely shook his head and dismissed the topic.  
  
"I know exactly what I'm getting my person," Harry commented a few minutes later, as they entered Honeydukes. "I'm going to have to leave you two to yourself for a bit though, while I get it."  
  
Ron nodded, suddenly distracted by the mass amount of sweets surrounding them. Hermione was already almost ten feet in front of them, browsing through a shelf of chocolate fruits.  
  
Harry sighed, turning around and backtracking onto the streets of Hogsmeade once more. Walking down to a tiny shop near the end of the street, he quickly opened the glass door and made his way inside, relaxing as the warm air hit his numb face.   
  
He wandered through the shelves before finding what he was looking for. He also picked up a small black wooden dog that moved realistically across his palm, sniffing his fingers before curling up into a little ball in the middle of his palm to keep warm – for Sirius, he decided.  
  
After paying for his purchases, he walked onto the cold, snowy street once more –  
  
-- And ran straight into Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Eurgh! Watch it, Potter!" Malfoy shouted, rubbing his forehead where he and Harry had hit. Harry mimicked his actions, his scar aching slightly from the contact. Without a second glance, Harry walked away as Malfoy walked into the store Harry had just come from.  
  
Harry made his way back to Honeydukes, where Ron and Hermione were just paying for their purchases as well.  
  
"All right there, Harry?" Ron asked, walking out of the shop holding two large parcels filled to the brim with sweets. Harry nodded as Hermione joined them, carrying only one small parcel herself.  
  
"Find what you were looking for?" asked Hermione. Harry nodded, patting the package under his left arm.  
  
"Yeah, I did – got something for Snuffles as well, it's perfect." He beamed as they walked into the Three Broomsticks.   
  
"You know," said Hermione, sitting down at a table five meters from the bar, where Ron was now heading to get their Butterbeers. "I think this may just turn out to be a happy Christmas after all."  
  
Harry nodded, leaning back into his chair and brushing his bangs out of his eyes.  
  
"I sure hope so."  
  



	3. Michael and Azrael

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
So sorry about not updating last night... Computer problems, among other things. I'll update with two chapters hopefully sometime this week, so don't worry. I'll make it up to you guys. :o) Christmas shopping today... It was fun. Driving as well, and I saw Harry Potter, the movie... *shakes head* Now that was a surprise.  
Aimée  
  
  
  
**Chapter 3: Michael and Azrael**  
  
  
  
"Oy, gifts!"  
  
Ron's yell woke Harry up the next morning, just as the clock next to his bed ticked over to nine. Harry sat up sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands before tumbling out of bed and making his way to where Ron was standing – next to a small pile of presents, bearing the names of each Gryffindor Seventh Year male in the dorm.  
  
"Gwha? Gifts, already?" Seamus was sitting up, already throwing his feet over the edge of his bed. "For all of us?"  
  
Ron nodded, digging into the pile to find his own; once he had found the small red package, Harry took the top parcel, which bore his name in scarlet block letters in a hand he didn't recognize.  
  
"It looks like a girl's handwriting," Ron commented, looking over his shoulder. "Maybe Hermione has you?"  
  
"Then that would be no fun," said Harry, shaking the parcel slightly, trying to guess what was inside of it before he opened it. "It's clothing though."  
  
"Clothing?" Seamus wrinkled his nose, grabbing his own pink and gold wrapped parcel. "Eurgh… Definitely female."  
  
"And definitely a Gryffindor." Ron finished for Seamus, "Slytherins wouldn't be caught dead in pink – unless you're talking about Pansy, and the chances of you two getting each other is highly, highly unlikely."  
  
"As random as the sorting was, I don't believe the teachers would let one student get another." Harry shrugged, tearing into his own package. "There's not much of a chance of that, eh?"  
  
"A miniature model of Krum… riding a Firebolt…" Ron's eyebrows arched as he opened his gift. "Either I got a git for a Saint, or they're incredibly stupid."  
  
"If it's a Slytherin, I'm going for 'incredibly stupid'." Grinned Seamus, holding up his own model of Aidan Lynch. "Looks like ours went to the same store though."  
  
Harry slowly unfolded his parcel, allowing the heavy scarlet velvet to fall through his hands, tumbling onto his bed. He blinked a few times, then unfolded the fabric; he was holding a rich scarlet cloak lined with black silk.  
  
"Who the bloody hell would spend so much on _me?_ " he exclaimed, throwing the cloak over his shoulders.   
  
"An admirer, obviously." Seamus commented wide-eyed, "And you just dropped something near your left foot."  
  
Harry bent over to retrieve the parchment, the cloak still hanging around his shoulders. He unfolded the parchment, eyes quickly scanning over the cursive – once again – scarlet writing.  
  
_Dear Harry,__  
__  
__Happy Christmas – I know you haven't had too many of these in your lifetime, so please, let me make it worth your while to enjoy the season.__  
__  
__The Archangel Michael was the leader, the brave one, the strongest of all – you've been our Michael for sixteen years now. You deserve a bit in return.__  
__  
__Happy Christmas once again,__  
__  
__Azrael_  
  
Harry sat back down on his bed, rereading the letter once more.   
  
"Azrael… Who was Azrael?" he asked Seamus and Ron, who were both now watching their figures fly around throughout the dorms.  
  
"One of the aliases for the angel Raphael, I believe." Seamus answered, poking the Lynch doll with his wand. "Me Mum mentioned it once or twice, after church a few years ago."  
  
"Another Angel." Harry muttered, "My Saint called their self Azrael… and called me Michael."  
  
Seamus nodded, "It fits, really. You do seem to be the savior of the Wizarding World, eh?"  
  
Harry shrugged, "If you insist."  
  
  
  
Harry and Ron met up with Hermione an hour later, who had received a fur ferret scarf from her Saint; it took Ron a full five minutes to stop laughing, reminiscing about Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret. Hermione simply raised an eyebrow and hugged the scarf more firmly around her shoulders, and followed Harry out the portrait towards the Great Hall.  
  
"You know, Pansy's eyeing Seamus awfully strangely…" Ron commented later that day, during dinner. "Think he mentioned shagging to her? I'm sure she'd accept."  
  
Harry wrinkled his eyes, "Ron, not all Slytherins are –"  
  
"Don't even say it, Potter!" Hermione exclaimed, clamping her hand over his mouth. "Blaise Zambini is perfectly nice, you know."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow, "But is she a –"  
  
_ "RON__!__"_  
  
Harry grinned, "Sorry, Hermione. Enjoying your scarf?"  
  
Hermione nodded, smiling, and nuzzled up to it for a moment. "The moment I learn who sent this to me, I'm going up to them and giving them a kiss on the lips – I love this scarf!"  
  
"And if it's a girl?" asked Ron, a smile playing on his lips. "Going to turn lesbian on us, are you?"  
  
Hermione blushed, "A girl wouldn't bother sending something this nice to me."  
  
Harry and Ron pondered this for a moment before Harry answered; "True."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow and reached out to smack both Ron and Harry's arm. "You gits!"  
  
Harry and Ron buckled down laughing, while a boy at the end of the table watched Hermione inconspicuously; no one noticed him as he smiled at her antics, nuzzling into the scarf he had spent hours deciding on.  
  
He was happy.  
  



	4. Up To the Challenge

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
It's short... but it's a chapter. :o) And oo... look at that... I got a Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Cooke Dough bar! I love my Dad.... *sighs happily* Only eight more days till Christmas... And if you haven't already, go download Lifehouse's "Everything".  
Aimée  
  
  
**Chapter 4: Up To the Challenge**  
  
  
"You wanted to see me?"  
  
Pansy Parkinson walked into the abandoned classroom Seamus had requested her presence in late that evening, a small piece of parchment in her hands telling her the exact classroom to go to.  
  
"Yes, I did." Seamus smiled and advanced on the dark-haired girl, a sultry smile on his face. "Now, you know I'm your Saint… How would you like a Christmas present you'll always remember?"  
  
Pansy, not being the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, cocked her head slightly and looked up at Seamus with a curious look. "Like what?"  
  
"Well, for starters…" Seamus leaned in a kissed Pansy on the mouth, much to her surprise. "That."  
  
"Seamus!" Pansy exclaimed, stepping back awkwardly. "What on Earth brought that on?"  
  
Seamus grinned, "I want to give you a Christmas present you'll never forget, and that's the only thing I can think of that you may like."  
  
Pansy wrinkled her nose, "I have a boyfriend, Seamus."  
  
Seamus arched his eyebrows, "Who, Draco Malfoy? You know, he really doesn't like you – it's a one way thing, everyone knows that."  
  
Pansy looked at his with alarm that quickly turned to anger, "How DARE you? Draco loves me, unlike you who only want to get into my pants –"  
  
"And what's so bad about that?" asked Seamus, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.  
  
"I—" Pansy looked lost, shaking her head and finally turning around. "I'm leaving, Seamus. Goodbye."  
  
Seamus grinned and saluted her retreating form. As the door closed, he burst out laughing, sinking down to the floor.  
  
"Poor, pathetic Pansy… Doesn't know what fun this is going to be. Just you wait… You're going to love Christmas this year."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Draco, who's Lavender Brown?" asked Crabbe that night, sifting through the pile of presents he had bought for Lavender – whom, apparently, he had no idea who she was.  
  
"The giggly blonde Gryffindor in Potions." Draco answered half-heartedly, leaning back in the overstuffed chair in front of the Slytherin fireplace. "Always sits next to Parvati Patil."   
  
"Oh," said Crabbe, sitting down next to Draco. "She's pretty."  
  
Draco shot his friend a sideways glance, raising his eyebrow. "If you like the whole ditzy airhead thing, sure."  
  
Crabbe shrugged, "What's wrong with it?"  
  
Draco sighed, "It doesn't matter, never mind."  
  
Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he took out the silver dragon he had received that morning from his Saint. The dragon had emerald eyes and breathed tiny breaths of fire whenever someone ran a finger down the ridges on her back, making, in Draco's opinion, a handy fire starter.  
  
All of the sudden, the common room door burst open and in stormed a furious-looking Pansy, holding a crumpled piece of parchment in her hand, which she immediately threw into the fireplace in front of Draco. Taking a moment to calm down, she turned towards the blonde with an accusing look in her eye.  
  
"Seamus Finnigan just informed me of something very interesting," she glared towards Draco, balling her fists. "He told me that the entire school seems to think you don't love me at all, even though you've said you have before."  
  
"Life sucks." Draco muttered, eyes still on the dragon. "What I feel and what I say when you're giving me a blowjob are two different things. They always are."  
  
Pansy's eyes flashed angrily at his words, and went to slap him before she thought better of it.   
  
"You know what, Draco Malfoy?" she spat, "I never loved you either; I only went to the Yule Ball with you because… because…"  
  
"Because no one else would take you." Draco rolled his eyes as the dragon walked across his arm. "And that was three years ago, Pansy. Get over it."  
  
Without another word, Pansy walked out the way she came, her strides much longer than usual. She made her way through the walls, backtracking until she reached the classroom only five minutes ago she had stormed out of.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, she stepped inside and looking around, finally spotting Seamus perched atop one of the desks in the back of the room.  
  
"Have a change of heart?" he asked, still grinning. Didn't he ever stop for a moment and realize the world wasn't a happy place?  
  
"More or less," Pansy answered, sauntering towards Seamus with a gleam in her eyes. "So, what was this present you wanted to give me that I'd always remember?"  
  
Seamus looked down at her, not surprised in the least. "A shag so good you'll be begging for more once I'm done."  
  
Pansy raised an eyebrow, a smile playing across her lips. "And how do you know you won't be the one begging for more at the end?"  
  
"Self control." Seamus stated simply. "Unless, of course, you're more than I've ever had before."  
  
"Is that a challenge?" Pansy asked in a husky voice, leaning towards the brunette boy. "Because I like challenges."  
  
Seamus met her halfway through in a liplock that lasted for just under a minute, and once they finally came up for air, he grinned once again.  
  
"It's the challenge of a lifetime."  
  



	5. A Stag Named Prongs

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
  
Happy December 17th to you all... Only seven more days and seven more chapters. Anyone excited? I am. Once again, it's rather short, but if I end up having to write a whole bunch in the last few chapters, it'll make up for whatever I'm missing here, don't worry.  
Aimée  
  
  
**Chapter Five: Prongs**  
  
  
"Can you _BELIEVE _this?" Lavender Brown screamed out four days later, on December 17th. A notice had just been posted by Professor McGonagall, stating King's Cross Station in London had been snowed in – there were no trains coming or leaving, and furthermore the station wasn't even open. Those students planning to go home for the holidays would be able to go home…  
  
_After Christmas._  
  
Neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione minded; they had been planning to stay at Hogwarts anyway, Ron and Hermione mostly to simply keep Harry company. Seamus shrugged it off, saying it was more time to spend with Pansy – he had boasted about the entire event (which had now turned plural, according to him) to his dorm, talking in great detail and waving his hands wildly. Neville looked on, completely scandalized and entranced at the same time. He had never even kissed a girl; how was he supposed to make his individual happy?  
  
The evening, Harry and Ron climbed the steps leading up to the Seventh Year dormitories wearily, until Ron opened the door and ran smack into Dean –   
  
Holding two packages addressed to Harry and Ron in his hands.  
  
Dean thrust the two gifts into their hands, and then spun back on his heel and pranced over to his own bed, which now held an expensive-looking watch made of, as far as Harry could tell, solid gold.   
  
Harry walked over to his own bed, setting the small cerulean box carefully on his bedspread. He stared at it for a moment, finally opening it carefully with his calloused hands from years of flying and playing Seeker on the Gryffindor House Team.  
  
One layer of paper… two… finally, a box opening up to reveal a tiny stag standing proud, raising it's sleek head to look up into the eyes of it's new owner. Harry stared, wide-eyed, at the tiny creature, finally raising his hand to the box so it could walk out onto his palm and take a look at it's new home.  
  
The stag was a proud figure – Harry soon found out it was made of silver underneath the lifelike fur and antlers – with his deep black eyes that seemed to hold years of knowledge and wisdom, despite the fact the creature was hand-made less than a month before.   
  
Next to him, Ron let out a yelp of delight; he had received a Chudley Cannons Keeper robe, bearing his name on the back. Seamus had received a large book of highly dangerous spells, all relating to pranks in some form or another. Neville had also received a book, but it was about the Founders of Hogwarts – one he had, coincidentally, been looking for.  
  
Harry simply stared at the stag for a good ten minutes, before Ron snapped him out of his trance, telling him it was time to get some sleep; none of them had been sleeping very well for the past few nights, with the excitement of Christmas lingering over Hogwarts like a stubborn storm cloud that just wouldn't go away.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Harry pocketed his stag – whom he now called Prongs, after his father's Animagus form – and once again, walked down to breakfast in the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. As he walked in the door, he felt a pair of eyes on him, bearing into his skull. When he looked around for the culprit, however, no one met his gaze.   
  
Once they reached their seats at the Gryffindor Table, he let Prongs loose on his plate, careful not to set any food around him. Prongs looked around bemused, finally settling down right in the middle of Harry's plate so he wasn't able to put large quantities of food on it, in fear of upsetting the stag.  
  
"You really like that thing, don't you?" Ron observed with a mouthful of toast. "I wonder who had the sense enough to give that to you."  
  
"Someone who obviously knew about Harry's father." Hermione answered, grabbing herself a bit of sausage. "Or someone who saw Harry's Patronus."   
  
"The last Patronus I let out where other people could see it was in the Third Year," Harry said quietly, "Unless you guys could see me in the maze during the Tri-Wizard Tournament."  
  
Ron shook his head, "No, I don't think we could – too dark."  
  
"So the only other option would be…?" Harry asked, carefully planting a piece of fried tomato next to the now sleeping stag.   
  
Both Ron and Hermione shrugged, "Not a clue."  
  
"I got another letter as well," Harry admitted, digging into his robes for the piece of parchment. He had shown both Ron and Hermione the previous letter, as he didn't quite understand the meaning behind it. Hermione had smiled knowingly and explained to him all about the seven different archangels in the Christian belief, only two of which Harry remembered – Michael, whose significance the letter had already explained to him, and Azrael, one of the names Raphael had gone by.  
_  
__ Dear Harry (or shall I call you Michael from now on, seeing as how it's so fitting?),__  
__  
__I know many things about you, as does most of the school, but I wanted to get you something personal. I did a bit of research, asked a certain DADA Professor of ours, and came up with this; a stag, after Prongs. You can thank Professor Lupin for the idea, it was just the sort of thing I was looking for.__  
__  
__I'm watching you.__  
__  
__ Azrael_  
  
"'I'm watching you'?" Ron raised an eyebrow, "That seems a bit sinister, doesn't it?"  
  
Hermione shrugged, "Who isn't watching Harry? What about his life isn't public knowledge?"  
  
Harry breathed in deeply, "Prongs."  
  



	6. Quidditch and Mistletoe

The Twelve Days of Christmas  
  
Wow, I'm such a bad author... I'm sorry I haven't been updating, but I promise it will get done. I get distracted easily, sorry, and I've had so many tests and essays due for school... *sigh* O well. :o) Three more days till Christmas, seeing as it's December 22nd, at exactly 12:27 AM. I saw Lord of the Rings... is it just me or is Legolas the Elf cute as hell?  
I know, I know... it's just me.  
Aimée   
  
  
  
  
Snow was falling down around the castle in thick clumps, making the corridors icy and the students' breath visible even in the warmest of rooms. Excitement was buzzing through the air; it was the Winter Solstice and Christmas was merely three full days away.   
  
"I think this is possibly the best Christmas I've had so far," Harry mused that afternoon while walking down the hall with Ron and Hermione at either side of him. "The season just gets better every year, doesn't it?"  
  
Hermione smiled and looped her arm into Harry's, "It certainly does."  
  
A moment later, as the three turned the corner, Ron ran smack dab into Seamus – who was pressed up against Pansy while snogging the living daylights out of her.  
  
"Eurgh!" Ron cried in disgust, trying to back up but finding his way blocked. "Can't you find somewhere else to do that?"  
  
Seamus stopped swapping spit with Pansy for a moment to look Ron's way, a superior look on his face.   
  
"Look up, Weasley."  
  
With a sudden feeling of dread, Harry, Ron, and Hermione each looked up at the ceiling above – which had become a small field of mistletoe.  
  
"Oh shit!" Ron exclaimed, glancing over at Harry and Hermione with a scowl. "Please tell me –"  
  
"If you're dreaming, so am I." Harry sighed, moving to face Ron and Hermione, finding his space was limited – only about four feet in each direction. Crossing his arms, he looked at both of them in turn.  
  
"Ok, you two first."  
  
Ron and Hermione gaped at him for a moment, both mouths hanging open, before Hermione sighed. Turning towards Ron, who had conveniently closed his mouth, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him on the lips, quickly pulling away and blushing scarlet.  
  
Ron shook his head, stepping back as far as possible and motioning towards Harry and Hermione. Hermione, once again, took control and leaned forward, laying one on the shocked boy. As she backed away, she put her right hand out to go beyond the barrier confining them – and still found it to be standing.  
  
Hermione laughed, "It's still there, you two."  
  
Harry and Ron both looked at her curiously, but it was Harry who spoke. "Why is it still there?"  
  
Hermione smirked and glanced over and Ron, then at Harry, and then back again once more at Ron. It was Ron who got the picture first; a look a shock and utter horror crossed his freckled features, and he then proceeded to shake his head violently.  
  
"No… No… _NO_!" he cried, stepping as far away from Harry as possible. "We're _BOYS_, Hermione… Boys don't… Do _that…_ !"  
  
As if a light bulb went off in his head, Harry suddenly got the picture – he and Ron had to kiss as well, in order for the barrier to be broken.  
  
"Sometimes, I hate being a wizard." He grumbled, taking a step towards Ron. "Listen – it's not that big of a deal. Hermione will close her eyes, won't she?"  
  
Before Harry had a chance to turn around and glare at Hermione, she shook her head, eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Of course I wouldn't! Why on Earth would I give up a good laugh like this?"  
  
Harry growled lowly for a moment before taking one more step towards Ron and kissing him fully on the lips – much to the disgust of himself and Ron. Before they had even broken apart, however, the barrier had broken and Ron had gone tumbling backwards, taking Harry with him.  
  
Ron landed on the floor with a heavy thud, with Harry landing on top of him, his body perfectly aligned with Ron's. Hermione burst out laughing at the two of them as Harry rolled off his best friend with a grunt, shaking his head and struggling to stand up. Once he was on both feet again, he turned around and offered a hand to Ron, who took it gratefully.  
  
"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Harry grinned, ignoring the stares from Pansy and Seamus and continuing his way down the corridor, Ron and Hermione following his brisk footsteps; Hermione's face had a look of laughter on it while Ron couldn't look any more embarrassed.   
  
_"Mistletoe…" _Ron shook his head, still in partial disbelief. "Bloody nightmare, I tell you."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Look!"  
  
It was the next morning, December 22nd, and there was once again a small stack of presents placed in the middle of the room for the five boys. Harry had taken his off the top of the pile, tossing the parcel on the bed and opening the envelope with a quick flourish. "They sent another one!"  
  
Ron leaned over, his mouth full of chocolate frogs. "Again, Harry? Read it!"  
  
Harry cleared his throat and held out the piece of parchment.  
  
"_Dear Michael,_"  
  
"Why do they insist on calling you that?" Seamus cut in, taking a piece of peppermint stick out of his mouth.   
  
"I don't know," Harry shrugged, "I don't mind. Besides that awful 'Boy-Who-Lived' nickname, it's the first I've ever had."  
  
Ron smirked, "If it's good enough for Harry, it's good enough for me. Now read… Go on, go on!"  
  
Harry glanced down at the parchment and continued.  
  
"_Only three more days – are you excited? I am, to finally see you face-to-face with you knowing who I am. It's been an interesting nine days so far, don't you think? __  
__  
__"Is Prongs behaving himself? Yes, I found out his name from a source I don't think I should say at the moment. Is that the name of your father's Animagus? I shouldn't bring up your parents, I'm sure, but I am curious, and curiosity is a fact of life. Without it, where would we be? Still living in caves, I suppose.__  
__  
__"I've rambled on long enough – Happy almost Christmas.__  
__  
__ "Azrael._"  
  
Harry looked up towards the parcel and set down the letter without comment, tearing into the green and gold wrapping paper with eagerness. A moment later, he held up a pair of leather Quidditch-gloves with _"H.J.P._ " stitched onto the three middle knuckles.  
  
"Whoa," he said, surprised. "How the hell did they know I needed a new pair?"  
  
Ron looked up at the present and shrugged, "Observant, I suppose."  
  
Harry shook his head, astonished. Placing the gloves onto his hands, he noticed they were a perfect fit.  
  
"I'll say."  
  



	7. Saint Harry

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
  
Woohoo, look what Aimée can do! Two chapters in less than an hour - go me. Granted, this one's not too long, but it's good enough... Draco's one of my favourite characters, so he gets a full chapter devoted to him and his sarcasim. Hell, it's worth a read. :o) Trust me on that.  
Aimée  
  
  
  
  
Malfoy woke up to a similar situation as Harry had that morning; Presents were piled in the middle of the common room he shared with Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. The other three had always awoken and grabbed theirs, leaving Malfoy's sitting on his bed.  
  
He reached over and grabbed it, feeling like light package squish beneath his fingers as he tore into the paper. There was no card; he had yet to receive one.  
  
A large stuffed snake fell out of the wrapping paper, making Malfoy jump about four inches off of the bed. As soon as he realized it was fake, he let out a loud, hollow laugh, picking the animal up gingerly and feeling the velvet beneath his fingers. His Saint was obviously basing his presents off of the Slytherin House and his name, seeing as how he had gotten him only animal things so far – those animals being a dragon and a snake.  
  
That, he decided, suggested his partner wasn't from Slytherin house; all of his classmates knew what he liked – large, expensive things that often came '_Property of D. L. Malfoy_' inscribed in it. Not being from Slytherin meant…  
  
_Gryffindor.__  
_  
He had known all along, of course. He found the situation humorous, if not downright hilarious. The one person he was supposed to hate, getting him presents for Christmas. The irony was far too good to pass up.  
  
Harry Potter was emptying his pocketbook - _for him! _When his friends found out, he knew they'd make fun of him – only until he shot them a glare and they realized it was either keep quiet or die.   
  
Malfoy wasn't positive, but he had a good feeling Harry had picked his name. It was the sort of feeling where you knew it was true, but refused to admit it. His great-great-Aunt Celine on his Father's side had been a Seer, and Malfoy was often convinced he had inherited some portion of her gift.  
  
Either that or he was just good at guessing.  
  
He picked at a piece of tape that had attached itself to his bedspread, making it's presence known each time Draco moved his left elbow. He was still half-asleep, and he didn't have the will to make himself get out of bed and go down to breakfast.   
  
It was Saturday; there were no classes for the next two weeks, so he would be able to stay up as last as he wished, and also get up as late as he pleased. It was a vicious cycle during the normal school year; he's stay up until at least two AM, either drawing, writing, or doing homework, and then he'd have to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to all of his classes.  
  
He knew he should just simply go to bed earlier, but it was no use; his biological clock was set on late night, early morning for at least five days a week.  
  
Malfoy hated it.  
  
He wasn't too fond of Christmas as well; he despised the idea of having to give and expect nothing in return. He wasn't greedy, he just believed people should get what they deserve; in order to deserve something from him, they should give back an equal amount.  
  
After all, it was only fair.  
  
He was a Malfoy; Malfoys weren't supposed to be giving, except when it came to charities and such. Lucius Malfoy kept up the Perfect Family Imagine; a loving father, a wonderful, beautiful mother, and a perfect heir and child. The fact his father was a Death Eater would never be known to the public, as long as Lucius got his way.  
  
It wasn't that Draco's life was bad; oh, no, quite the opposite indeed. His father was often harsh on him, yes, but he never did try in school anyway. He supposed he deserved the long lectures and bits of humiliation his father served him; it was how Lucius was raised, and look how he turned out. Respected – or was that frightened? – by his peers, he was a well-known name and face in the Wizarding World.   
  
The Malfoys weren't into arranged marriages, either, Draco sighed with relief. An often misconception with the Slytherin House was that they were all betrothed the moment their parents found out if they were a boy or a girl, which wasn't true at all.  
  
_ Yes, _Draco thought. _They usually wait until we can at least open our eyes to make sure our features won't clash too greatly.__  
_  
He chuckled lightly; it wasn't like that at all. His father was all for Draco finding a nice girl to settle down with – girls that were willing to give themselves up were of no use, he was often told. They would run off and share a bed with any man they could get their hands on. This, of course, eliminated Pansy right away.  
  
Draco was incredibly thankful for that.  
  
This was the one Christmas he was looking forward to; all of the others had been almost routine. Open presents Christmas morning, after Christmas breakfast of course. The extended family would visit, giving Draco a headache from the moment the first one walked in the door until at least three days after the event was over.   
  
This year would be different; although the gifts had little research and thought, his Saint at least knew enough to figure out his name had meant dragon and snake. The fact another student cared enough to spend a few good Galleons on him made Draco feel content; perhaps the whole school didn't hate him after all?  
  
That was wishful thinking, he laughed bitterly. He would always be loathed by the rest of the Houses, yet he didn't have any problems with it. He truly didn't care; it wasn't his mission in life to be loved by everyone, as Harry's obviously was.   
  
Harry Potter, the boy he was always told he had to hate. Never make it too obvious though, he thought. Malfoys are supposed to be happy the Dark Lord has fallen – never allow anyone else to find out any differently.  
  
_ Saint Harry…__  
__  
_ It had a nice ring to it.  



	8. Falter

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
And you thought I wouldn't deliver... It's currently 2:13 AM, EST, on December the 24th. I promise, later today at least one more chapter will be up - it may be closer to midnight than anything, but it'll happen. Hell, if I have the time, you'll have two. This story _will _be done by Christmas, don't worry about that. I have yet to miss a deadline... I finished a 100 chapter story on July 31st (which incidentally, wasn't planned when I first started out, rather about 25 chapters in). It snowed today... I was happy. :o) And I also saw the Majestic, which is a very, very patriotic movie. I'm surprised the critics haven't said too much about it.  
Happy Christmas Eve,  
Aimée  
**  
****Chapter 8 : Falter**  
  
  
It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. The five boys of Gryffindor dorms laid in their beds, conversing back and worth with the eager banter of six year olds anticipating the morning to come.   
  
"Who do you think your Saint is, Dean?" said Seamus, who was curled up into a small ball at the foot of his bed, blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon.  
  
"Don't know," Dean admitted. "A Gryffindor girl… Definitely not Hermione though, she's not too into pink, it she? Lavender, maybe."  
  
"I haven't a clue as to who my Saint is," Seamus sighed. "It's simply awful not knowing, I must say."  
  
"We'll find out tomorrow morning," mumbled Ron sleepily into his pillow. "But while the subject's open, I probably got someone horrible – Malfoy or your girlfriend. My luck just runs that way, you know."  
  
Seamus grinned, "I will jump onto the Gryffindor table and strip off all of my clothes, then dance the funky chicken if Pansy's your Saint."  
  
Ron's eyes, although veiled by darkness, widened. "You promise that?"  
  
"O' course," promised Seamus. "You have my word as an Irishman."  
  
"Guys… that's the last thing we need right now, Seamus dancing around naked." Harry mumbled.  
  
"True," Ron admitted, "Who do you think got you?"  
  
"You." Harry admitted, "You or Hermione. No one else…"  
  
Ron understood Harry's unspoken words; only he and Hermione knew of Prongs.  
  
"But they said they asked…"  
  
Harry understood Ron as well; his Saint had asked Professor Lupin, which was enough of a boost up for it to be anyone.  
  
"So, it's just a question of who he'd divulge that sort of information to." Harry said quietly, "Which automatically rules out any and all Slytherins."  
  
"Who else is left?" Ron asked, "Because I can assure you, it's not me."  
  
"I don't know…" Harry mused, looking up at the blurry rafters. "Who do you think got you, Neville?"  
  
Neville sighed and rolled over in his bed to face Harry's. "I'm not too sure, really. I'd like to be surprised, anyway."  
  
"Isn't it awful to not know?" Seamus murmured, eyes focused some ten feet above him.   
  
"It is," Dean agreed. "But I suppose Ron's right – for once in his pathetic excuse for a life… just kidding!" he put his arms defensively in front of his face to protect against the onslaught of pillows that hit him next. "We'll just have to wait to find out tomorrow."  
  
Seamus sighed, "I hate waiting."  
  
"It's not too bad," said Harry, "I rather enjoy it. I like waiting more than actually doing or receiving. Anticipation has really always been apart of my life, and we've grown rather fond of each other."  
  
All four boys sniggered at Harry's dream-filled voice, albeit sarcastically.   
  
"And I suppose you'd rather open your presents New Years Day, to prolong the wait a bit?" grinned Ron, who was now wide away.  
  
"Of course not," Harry insisted, "I've accepted the fact the wait will soon be over; otherwise, the wait wouldn't be nearly as much fun."  
  
"You're a nutcase, you know that Potter?" Seamus shook his head, "An absolute nutcase."  
  
"I second that." Dean added good-naturally.   
  
"And I will be third." Ron laughed.  
  
"Over ruled," Neville interjected. "He's not a nutcase – not nearly as much as Dumbledore is."  
  
"True…" Seamus mused, surprised greatly at the smaller boy's intellect. "But he's enough of a nutcase to go around snogging his friends."  
  
"SEAMUS!" Ron roared, "You promised you wouldn't say anything!"  
  
The remaining two boys – Dean and Neville – immediately sat up, not wanting to miss out on this juicy tidbit.  
  
"What'dya mean?" Dean asked, peering through his half-drawn curtains towards Harry and Ron's beds.  
  
"Ron, Hermione, and I—" Harry choked for a moment, the continued. "We sort of got stuck under the field of mistletoe in the fourth floor."  
  
Both Dean and Neville let out a burst of laughter, but soon quieted to allow Harry to continue.  
  
"Those things don't let you out until you've – snogged – the intended parties. Which, in this case, happened to be both Ron and Hermione." Harry breathed in deeply, "Hermione's not too bad of a snogger. Ron, however… Sorry, but you could use a bit of work."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow, starting to realize what Harry wanted to do. "Well, Potter, _you're _not exactly Joe Smooth either. Far too much tongue, _and _you slobber."  
  
"_I_ slobber?!" Harry exclaimed, _"You _should talk! I had to use a hanky afterwards, with all that spit and saliva you drooled on me."  
  
_"Enough_!" Seamus said loudly, "Too many details!"  
  
Harry smirked, "Good. I'm glad you enjoyed it."  
  
"I didn't…" Seamus was at a lose for words. "Ok, fine, sight of you and Ron snogging was rather funny, but I didn't need to hear the details."  
  
"Neither did we," Dean agreed. "But you say Hermione's a good snogger?"  
  
"Best girl I've ever snogged." Harry confirmed.  
  
"That doesn't mean too much," Ron grinned, "The only girl Harry's ever kissed was –"  
  
Ron faltered, realizing the insult he had intended wasn't going to work. It was the last thing he wanted to do, remind Harry about his parents this time of year, especially when things were so perfect.  
  
"It's ok," Harry said quietly, "But untrue. I'm pretty sure I haven't kissed my Mum – especially not lately."  
  
Ron gave his best friend a small smile, "Sorry Harry, I wasn't thinking."  
  
Harry shrugged, "It's not a big deal, I'm fine."  
  
There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke again – and surprisingly, that person was Neville.  
  
"So… Harry… Hermione's a good snogger?"  
  



	9. Snitch!

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
Opps... ok, I lied. It's going to be ten chapters, simply because there's nothing else to write about. You get to find out one set of Saints though - that's a good thing, right? :o) Let's see if you all can guess the next set as well, now that you know who the players are. And yes, the title for this chapter was taken from Al's story... Just because I read the Christmas cookie last night, and loved it.  
Aimée  
**  
  
  
****Chapter Nine: Snitch!**  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, all of the Seventh Year Gryffindors walked into the Great Hall in a huddled pack, whispering excitedly about who they believed their Saint to be. The Great Hall was abandoned, save the Seventh Year Slytherins, each looking cold and aloof as the Gryffindors entered the Great Hall.   
  
Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, a bright smile on his face. He gestured for the Gryffindors and Slytherins to sit down on two sets of tables that each seated ten.   
  
"To start, I would like to wish you all a very happy and merry Christmas. The Hogwarts Express shall take those who wish to go home in just a few days, so that you may spend a bit of the holiday season with your families. Break shall extend an extra week for the inconvenience."  
  
A cheer erupted in the Great Hall, but was quickly silenced as Dumbledore raised his hand to speak once more.  
  
"Now, I'm sure you're all anxious to find out who your Saint is… However, I must to ask one thing of you first. Would Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, Vincent Crabbe, Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger, and Gregory Goyle please step forward?"  
  
Casting curious glances towards the Headmaster, the six students stood up from their respective tables and turned to face the Headmaster.  
  
"Now, those seated please look up at these six students; one of them is your Saint. If you are quite sure as to who your Saint is, please stand up and join them."  
  
Only two people stood up; Pansy, who went to stand by Seamus and take his arm, and Dean, who went to stand by Hermione.  
  
"How did you...?" asked Hermione, surprised Dean had figured out it was her.  
  
"Slytherins were never much for pink." Dean grinned, "And Parvati and Lavender aren't up here."  
  
Dumbledore clapped his hands, "Very good, Dean and Pansy! Now, I shall now read off the list. Once I have read your name, please go and stand by your Saint.  
  
"Ron Weasley, Parvati Patil.  
  
"Vincent Crabbe, Lavender Brown."  
  
After Dumbldore had announced Crabbe was Lavender's Saint, a loud cough that seemed to cover up a groan of disgust sounded throughout the Great Hall. Lavender stood up reluctantly and went over to Crabbe, standing as far away from him without being impolite as possible.  
  
"Gregory Goyle, Neville Longbottom."  
  
A surprised murmuring rippled through the air; after almost two weeks of receiving gifts for Goyle, ho was Neville still in one piece? Surely Malfoy would have tried to make Neville's Christmas as miserable as possible…  
  
Knowing what was coming next, Draco smiled inwardly with satisfaction, knowing he had guessed correctly; after all, he and Harry were the only ones left.  
  
"Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy."  
  
As the rest of the students whispered like mad, Draco stood up calmly and walked over to Harry, who – for once – seemed to tolerate his presence.  
  
"I shall allow you five minutes to speak amongst yourselves, and then the other pairings shall be announced." Said Dumbledore, stepping back and seating himself on the end of the Gryffindor's table.  
  
"Well…" said Draco quietly, "That was quite the surprise."  
  
"It was," Harry agreed. "Think the drawing was rigged?"  
  
"In this world?" Draco looked up towards the cloudy ceiling, "Anything's possible."  
  
Harry nodded, agreeing once more. For a moment there was complete silence between the two, and finally Harry spoke.  
  
"I suppose I should apologize… for not accepting your friendship, when we were First Years."  
  
Draco shook his head, "It was my fault for being such an arrogant git – it runs in the family."  
  
"You were provoked," Harry said quietly, "Ron really shouldn't have insulted your family name."  
  
Draco shrugged, "It happens more than you would think, Potter. The Malfoys and the Weasleys have always been against one another – it's just another one of those things you can't really do anything to prevent."  
  
Harry stuck out his hand for Draco to shake, "Truce?"  
  
Draco eyed his hand warily for a moment, and then took it almost gratefully.  
  
"Truce."  
  
Harry grinned and released Draco's hand, his own diving into his pocket. He held out a small golden ball of fluff and placed it in Draco's still outstretched hand, and it then proceeded to chirp loudly.  
  
"Don't worry, it's not alive." Said Harry, looking at Draco's surprised expression. "It's a Snitch charmed to look and act like a real Snidget. I figured it could be both a pet and a practice tool."  
  
Draco stood there for a few moments before closing his fingers around the ball of feathers. He looked back up at Harry, eyes widened slightly.  
  
"Thanks, Harry."  
  
Harry smiled and nodded, "No problem, Draco."  
  



	10. The Funky Chicken

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**  
  
It's over... *sniff* Merry Christmas Eve to you all. I'm sorry about not being able to put out twelve chapters... I'm a failure, I know. It still worked out in the end though, so hopefully you're not too disappointed. I wish you all a happy and safe holiday season, and I hope you all receive exactly what you want. My inbox is always open - aimee@mediaone.net - and if you have AOL Instant Messanger, my current screen name is ExemplarPiaculum. Feel free to chat, I always love talking to you guys. :o)  
Aimée  
  
**Chapter Ten - The Funky Chicken**  
  
  
Once everyone had finished their conversations, Dumbledore instructed Neville, Pansy, Draco, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati to stand up, while the others sat down.   
  
"I see most of you were rather surprised as to who your Saint was. I'm glad to see it; surprises are a part of the Christmas season." Dumbledore smiled down upon them once more, clapping his hands in glee.  
  
"The second list of names shall now be read; once again, please follow procedure and stand by your Saint."  
  
He cleared his throat before looking down at the list in his hands, "Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger."  
  
An almost inaudible gasp arose from the Gryffindor table as Hermione gave Neville a look of complete surprise; he was the absolute last person she had been expecting.  
  
"Pansy Parkinson, Ronald Weasley."  
  
Once again, a cough that was bound to cover up a laugh filtered through the group as Ron stood up, ears tinted pink, to walk over by Pansy.  
  
"Dean Thomas, Vincent Crabbe."  
  
Without so much as a word from either of the two boys, Crabbe lumbered over to where Dean was standing, crossing his arms and looking down at his feet.  
  
"Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan."  
  
Seamus let out a whoop of delight, terribly glad he hadn't received Malfoy as a Saint. He stood up and practically leapt over to Lavender's side, who wasn't looking exceptionally happy her individual was Seamus.  
  
"Parvati Patil, Gregory Goyle."  
  
Mimicking exactly what his friend before him had done, Goyle lumbered over silently to Parvati's side, who wasn't looking as happy as she had before.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, not even bothering to hear his name read. He got up and went to stand by Draco, who was snickering quietly to himself.  
  
"Was this game rigged?" he asked good-naturally to the Headmaster.  
  
Dumbledore smiled and shrugged, "It wasn't I, Mr. Potter, who handed out the names."  
  
Draco elbowed Harry in the ribs lightly, simply to get his attention as the rest of the crowd started talking as well.  
  
"I'm beginning to agree with you on this whole rigged issue," Draco admitted, eyeing the Headmaster warily.  
  
"How did you find out about Prongs – and my middle name, for that matter?" Harry blurted out.  
  
Draco shrugged, "I asked Professor Lupin, to be honest. I asked him what the perfect gift would be – he started to mention a stag, and I simply asked why."  
  
"And my middle name?" Harry asked quietly, reaching into the folds of his robes and allowing Prongs to walk daintily onto the palm of his hand.  
  
"Easy," answered Draco, "_Harry James Potter_ – it's in every recent Defense Against the Dark Arts book there is, to tell you the truth."  
  
Harry sighed, "That's… sad."  
  
Draco cocked his head, "What's sad? The fact everyone knows your middle name, or the fact there's far too many DADA books?"  
  
"Both." Harry grinned.  
  
  
  
  
Neville stood next to Hermione nervously, fidgeting every few moments. Over the past two weeks, he had developed – something that could only be described as a crush – on Hermione. Seeing her face-to-face with her having the knowledge he was her Saint was one of the most terrifying things he could ever remember having to go through.  
  
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, "For all the lovely gifts. I really, really appreciated them."  
  
Neville smiled, "You … you're welcome."  
  
There was more silence between the two, but Hermione finally broke then ice once again.  
  
"Listen… would you like to go to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow? Have a Butterbeer with me?"  
_ Did _he?  
  
Neville had to restrain himself from whooping with delight, and he allowed himself to nod courteously.  
  
"Yes, that'd be very nice."  
  
Before another word could be spoken by any of the students, a loud slamming sound was heard as Seamus jumped up onto the table and hastily unbuttoned his robes, throwing them off his shoulders to reveal nothing but a pair of festive red and green underwear underneath – which was shed a moment later.  
  
"I was prepared," Seamus winked towards Ron as a loud gasp was heard throughout the crowd.  
  
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Seamus continued. "I shall dance the Funky Chicken naked for you."  
  
And he most certainly did.   
  



End file.
